Only The Good Die Young
by pinkyridz
Summary: Jack is there to pick up the pieces after Janet's funeral


And as we say goodbye I can hardly see  
for the tears in my eyes.  
You are shining like a million suns.  
There is one more star up in Heaven tonight.

I can see the cursor blinking away on the screen, willing me, urging me to commit my thoughts and feelings. The sun has long since set on the day. The dark tendrils of night have clouded my view.

It has been nearly a year since I've returned to earth, to SG1. My memories started to re-surface after a few days spent back in the familiarity of the SGC. The mission logs have helped to fill in the blank spaces in my mind and have brought some form of clarity but the feelings and emotions of my life prior to ascension have been lost. This is why it's important that I document today so in the future I'll look back and be able to fully understand the importance of remembering loved ones.

Janet Fraiser's and my own path crossed too often. The 'Doctor/Patient' relationship had transcended to one of friends many years ago, so I have learnt; a relationship that came to me so easily on my return.

'Nine lives Jackson' was a term used often on my return, as friends and colleagues helped me regain some of my old life - they were not wrong. My medical file read like 'War and Peace' and was very hard to digest. To me they were stories of another time and place – another person. They were stories of losses and pain but one thing was constant, one thing read as clear as crystal, the steadfast devotion of duty by Dr Janet Fraiser.

Jack had gone over the events on Kelowna one night, one emotionally charged night – remembering was painful for both of us. Janet had worked tirelessly to save me, gone above and beyond the call of duty, hours and hours of fight and care, doggedly refusing to give up and let me go. The events were ultimately out of her hands, as I alone had the decision to make. I should have thanked her, I never did, that was wrong and now it is too late.

Where the hell was Oma when Janet needed her? She was far more worthy of ascension than I was. She saved people. She made us better.

She was there waiting for the plane that brought me home from Honduras. She was there in the following weeks, caring for me physically and mentally. Imprisonment and torture is hard even for the toughest military but I am not a soldier.

She was there, fighting for me tooth and nail as the inhabitants of the Stromos fought to control my mind. I had retreated apparently – I don't have many relocations of the events just the confirmation from my team that Dr Fraiser didn't take any 'crap' – I think that was the word used by Jack. She fought for me as she always did for all of us.

I have had to learn to grieve once more as the memories of so many losses flooded my senses on my return but Janet's departure has been so hard. I had been able to control my emotions to a certain extent, having to concentrate on getting Janet home, compiling reports and editing that damn video but in the silence of an empty operating studio I had allowed myself to cry, to start the grieving process. Since then I have hidden away, withdrawn into my thoughts, allowed a few tears to fall, a few memories to come to the surface, memories that were painful, too painful, memories that had been quickly shoved back into their compartments.

Today has been unbearable and I'm so tired now.

My head aches, my eyes ache, my heart aches…

Today we said goodbye…

Xxxxxxxx

You know, if there was ever a good day to attend a funeral today would have been it. A cold and crisp day, complete with a cloudless blue sky.

Yes, it has been a lovely day. A day the military could not have owned, this day has belonged to family.

The base memorial that was held last week was conducted with full pomp and circumstance but today has been personal, our way to pay our last respects.

The events that had taken place on P3X 666 were worlds away. Funny, the irony of that statement. Having to watch a father mourn his daughter had been hard. I couldn't help but wonder what story the military had concocted this time? What lies and webs were spun to her nearest and dearest? When did living a lie become the norm for us? To know not to question the truth behind the explanations of events. Didn't her father deserve to know how and where his daughter died, how she lived? I'm sure he would have been very proud if he'd known the truth.

Matthew Fraiser was there today.

From what I have been told, Janet's ex-husband didn't approve of her decision to pursue a career in the air force. I think, from what I can gather from Sam, he had an almost sexist view to the military. He didn't agree with her chosen path and it had ultimately led to the end of their marriage. Janet was one of the strongest willed women I have ever met. She didn't suffer fools lightly and we all knew not to mess with her; when enough was enough. At the same time we also knew that anything, any problem, big or small, insignificant or not – she would always be there. Matthew Fraiser's loss was our gain. Her military career had soared after she entered the Stargate Programme and within no time she had climbed to the rank of Major, something a lot of people overlooked – to most she was 'Doc'. She had been decorated numerous times for her courage and heroism. Her career file was littered with recommendations, she was thought very highly of. I wonder if he knew? I was surprised he came.

Cassie was magnificent today. Over the last few months I've been reacquainted with this remarkable young lady. Memories of her have been vague; it has been a privilege and pleasure getting to know her all over again. Through Janet's endless love, commitment and guidance she has grown into a young woman of high morals, strength of character and admirable ethics. So strange that although biologically she wasn't Janet's daughter, spiritually they seemed meant to be. She is someone we are all extremely proud of. Janet has done an amazing job. She has given her roots – a foundation for life, a foundation that has truly been tested the past few weeks, after her mother's untimely death. When I first saw her, after Sam had broken the awful news, I was at a loss to know what to say. All these years words had been my life but this had been so hard. Give me a quill and parchment, paper and pen, keyboard and screen, then I'd have coped, then the words would have flowed and I would have been able to share my grief. My sorrow. My empathy. Looking into those huge blue eyes I was Danny Jackson again, stuttering and nervous,

The eight year old orphan standing at my parents' graveside with my Grandfather holding my hand so tight it hurt. The orders to be 'grown up' still ringing in my ears. I crumbled, but Cassie was wonderful. I had gone to give her comfort but she ended up giving it to me, telling me everything was going to be all right, she would be fine. Hell, she stole my line.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shadows, darken the day is done  
And I cannot believe that it's true and you are gone  
You were always here beside me  
You gave so much as the Queen of Hearts  
To those without love.  
You were their voice when they could not speak  
A touch for the dying

The church had been full; the service is now a blur.

The colours were vivid. No black – Cassie's orders. The splash of colours were a celebration and I, for one, did not feel like celebrating.

The church had been festooned with white roses and lilies – Janet would have been upset. She would have ordered me to increase my antihistamines but I didn't and I am paying for the mistake now. My eyes are itching like mad and my sinuses are clogged. Silly simple mistake.

Cassie had followed the casket down the aisle, her hand planted firmly in Sam's.

The Monkees' 'Day Dream Believer' had echoed around the stone pillars. Janet may not have approved but the song held great meaning and a special place in Cassie's heart – stirring memories of a summer's day. Of friends singing at the tops of their voices while preparing a trip to the mountains. Times spent with 'family' that would never be the same again. So fine, just fine. Good memories, happy ones to be savoured and cherished.

I watched a young lady never leave her mother's side. Throughout the service, one hand remained on the casket as if it were holding her up. She didn't cry. She sang the hymns with all her heart, never looking at the words, as if every note, every word meant the world to her. I could tell she was trying to commit every second to memory, to her memory of her mother – the mother who had chosen her, to whom she owed so much.

Sam broke down a couple of times. Cassie just held her hand and smiled lovingly at her, as if she was giving her permission, letting her know that it was okay to mourn.

Cassie had been the grown up and I truly hope that Janet had been watching her today.

She'd prepared a poem about her Mom to be read out. She had asked me to do it and I understand why now. She'd been the epitome of control. That had been the way she had wanted it to be and, again, that was fine.

I was honoured to be asked but knew I had to be detached, to treat the reading as if I was giving a presentation. At the same time, I knew I had to do justice to a young girl's words. I knew my hands shook, I couldn't hide them. I kept my head forward and spoke. It had been like an out of body experience, as if someone else had spoken the words. I hadn't been there. In my mind I had been miles away. I still feel miles away…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And as we say goodbye I can hardly see  
For the tears in my eyes  
You are shining like a million suns  
And there is a new star in Heaven tonight

Finally it was all over. The words said, the goodbyes delivered – but it didn't seem enough.

Silence had been replaced by soft sounds of laughter that had fluttered in the gentle breeze stirring the ancient trees of the graveyard. People who really cared told stories of a better time. Tales of drunken nights, practical jokes and special times.

It had not seemed right to me, she was gone and everyone was having a good time. Why were the tears already dried? Why had everyone forgotten so soon?

Lives went on as they always do.

I hid away and watched the people disperse with smiles on their faces. I let the giant oak shield me from the world as the story unfolded. Jack found me. Of course Jack found me. He lifted my chin so our eyes met, he whispered soothing words of how everything would be all right. Rubbing my arms he told me that the staff car was waiting to take me home and ordered me to sleep and assured me that he would not be long. His mouth was working but it was such a blur.

He was off to take Sam and Cassie to the airport. They had much to sort out.

I know I nodded, I know I tried to smile. I'm not sure if I did.

Another hour lost in the day. The journey home yet another blink of an eye. The countryside whizzed past the window, the green and yellow meadows merged into the hustle and bustle of the city.

The sky changed from brilliant blue to the murky, soot ridden grey of rain filled air. I must have nodded off at some point. I know I shut my eyes to block out the day, block out the feeling of being so alone, so abandoned. This must have been how I felt all those years ago.

After the funeral, after the goodbyes, there must have been an overwhelming sensation of not belonging anymore. I can imagine the chilled, damp walls of a childrens' home; Nick's cold callousness for leaving me, leaving me with strangers, without a family. Today has stirred memories long gone. I feel cold, empty and bitter.

Wonder if you ever knew  
how much you were loved  
and in the darkness of a lonely room  
were you empty inside?  
As you fade away it's like a light  
has gone from the world  
But I am sure that there is a place  
Where it will burn on forever

Now I sit and watch as the rain pours down the window, looking out at the dark world. Putting the light on would be too much effort. Bright light does not suit today, one candle lights my way; the glare from the computer screen and one candle…

The only sounds are the keys that are pouring the story of my broken heart onto the page in front of me.

I watch as it unfolds. My thoughts brought to life, to live forever as a testament of how I feel, how I will always feel. Janet will never read this. That is tragic. I want her to know, I tried to tell her… There was not enough time, it was so sudden. No times for goodbyes.

I am so cold

My inbox keeps bleeping at me. The little envelope sign at the top of my screen keeps telling me that someone is trying to reach me. I can't go there. I know her name is there. Her messages to me are still there. It is too raw. Everyday while we were away, while we were off world – she would fill our inboxes with her thoughts, her prayers, her good wishes – tales of good and bad, gossip and fun, silly cartoons, dirty jokes and poems of friendship.

This was how she kept in touch.

Kept the faith. Too painful.

What should I do?

Should I delete them?

Destroy them forever like the Goa'uld have destroyed her?

Send her memory to the recycle bin with just one push of a button?

It is getting colder now.

My cell is on the table next to the keyboard.

Glaring at me. Willing me to pick it up, pick it up and listen to my stored messages. Messages from Janet, Janet's voice – Janet's laughter!

What to do?

What to do?

Just press the button…

Just press the button and I will never have to deal with her again. She would be gone. The traces of her life intertwined with mine would be gone, lost to the ether forever.

I am so tired, cold, tired and alone.

Why can't I stop shivering?

She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street.  
She's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks.  
She's the cool hand on your brow when you're not well.  
Your mother lives inside your laughter.  
She's crystallized in every teardrop.  
She's the place you came from, your first home.  
She's the map you follow with every step that you take.  
She's your first love and your first heartbreak.  
Nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space, not even death...  
will ever separate you from your mother...  
You carry her inside you heart!

Cassie's words came out of Daniel's mouth.

She and Sam had spent a couple of sleepless nights coming up with a fitting tribute from a daughter to her mother and, as is the norm, it had been perfect. Daniel had been the obvious choice with hindsight. His velvety, soothing voice rang out strong and clear and you could have heard a pin drop. Thing is, I know Daniel; I saw the shadows under his eyes, the shaking of his hands. Everyone marvels at how well he is doing – under the circumstances – but I know.

He thinks he has me fooled.

Years of sharing a tent in the field and months of sharing a bed in our home, have trained me to recognise every sound, every movement.

Ya see – it has all been an act.

He has submerged himself into the welfare of others. His 'Mother Henning' has been driving me bonkers but I let him, he needed to lose himself. He has tirelessly been going over and over the tape of the mission – trying desperately to put all the pieces together – to document it accurately – to do Janet Fraiser justice.

Somewhere along the line he has forgotten.

Somewhere along the line his memory of the events has been conviently brushed over.

He was there. He was there when she died. He held her as she died. He fought with his very soul to stop her from dying. These little details, he hopes, are being forgotten. Documented in film. Documented in files and on paper but not dealt with emotionally. He has done his job, what he is paid for, and done it well – now he needs to deal with this. He needs to let this go and move on.

Believe me – I know.

Today brought back so many memories of another fall day, another casket, and another death that could have been avoided – a death of a child that a father did not properly deal with – a death that all but destroyed a family. Not gonna make that mistake again.

Daniel was not with us today. He closed down and retreated. It was his way of dealing. Yes he went through the motions, said the right things but his eyes were closed to everyone around him; all but to the little girl who became a young woman before our very eyes. A litte girl who, yet again, has been forced to grow up before her time. Life can be very cruel.

After I dropped the girls at the airport I came home to a dark, cold house.

I came home to the man I love in deep shock.

The dim light from the candle led me to him, head in hands, broken.

Shivering and silently sobbing.

Is it wrong to say that it was a relief? He needed to let go of his emotions.

I gotta tell ya I was that close to pouring him into the car and dumping him in the infirmary.

I was angry – so shoot me!

But the infirmary without Janet is the last place he needs.

My training took over, the need to get him warm, to get some sugar into him. I know he hasn't eaten properly in days. How he has stood on his feet this long is beyond me!

I eased his shaking body into a warm bath and placed a folded towel on his forehead in an attempt to sooth away the pounding of his headache. Not a word was spoken.

He just permitted me to help him. He had hit his wall. The act, the fight dissolved in that bath.

I lit the candles and did all the talking. Assuring him that everything was going to be alright. Time would heal, we would never forget – all the bullshit that had been fed to me all those years ago. The hollow words echoed in my head but what else could I say? In those 30 minutes I understood and appreciated Sarah for the wonderful person that she was and still is.

The difference between Daniel and me is that I have been trained to deal;taught to grieve. I have forgotten how many such funerals I have been to. Too many fallen comrades to count. Life is a bitch and you have to deal with it. The thing is – my mindset changed the day Daniel died.

Big time changed.

My family would have helped me when Charlie died, if I had let them, but it was ultimately Daniel who saved me.

People came and went but Daniel was constant. Always there, sometimes bugging me but – always there.

If this day had been a few years ago I would have approached him differently – told him to pull himself together, to grow up and walk tall but now, now I know how he feels. I know how to grieve - I had to learn and it was not easy and it is not easy now but I know he has taken the first step, tried it his own way, tried to shut it all out but it has not worked. If he knows it or not he has now opened up – let me worm my way in. I will not let this destroy him, like Share's death had threatened to. Those memories are a blur to him now. He started with a near blank set of emotions and feelings after his ascension. This is now the first time he has lost someone he truly loved – family. Yet he does have snippets of feelings. We have tried to fill in the blanks – explain his nightmares, the phantom pains of abandonment and mourning of a child. He has read his files. I have been there to pick up and try and piece together his shattered soul. He is my life, my world – plus the fact he will know that he has pissed the good Doc off if he lets this destroy him.

See what you have done to us Janet? Hope you are keeping an eye on him! That is an order!

Not a word was spoken as I dried him off, fed him some Tylenol and a mug of overly sugared coffee – just the one – decaf. I helped him into bed and tucked him in – just like I did Charlie. I swear he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. He looked so childlike as he sighed in his sleep, his hands tucked under his chin. I stayed with him a long time, watching him sleep, watching for the nightmares to kick in – which they did – but I managed to soothe them away with soft words and gentle kisses.

He sleeps and tomorrow we will start to deal.

Thank God we have tomorrow!

Do not stand at my grave and weep;  
I am not there, I do not sleep.  
I am a thousand winds that blow.  
I am the diamond glints on snow.  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush  
I am the swift uplifting rush  
of quiet birds in circled flight.  
I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry;  
I am not there, I did not die.

Two months later

Today I, we, let Janet go.

It has been a long couple of months, full of contemplation and dealing, of thoughts and growing, of love and sharing. I don't remember much of the night of the funeral. I do know Jack was there, Jack caught me when I fell – when it all became too much. He held me close to his heart through the following sleep disturbed nights, full of tears and nightmares. He held my heart in his hand as I poured out the truth of Janet's final words. How she gave me permission to let her go, told me it was alright to let her go. I truly understand how much I hurt Jack when I ascended. I read that file – I told him to let go. To give a loved one permission, and for that loved and to act on it, is the hardest thing anyone could have to do. Now we both have a common guilt and it entwines our very being.

He was there when I told Cassie that her mother loved her so very much and wanted her to know that she would always be with her. I obeyed her final wishes – the rest would remain a secret between Jack and I – no one else would understand.

Today SG1 went back through the gate on a meet and greet mission – the first one since Janet died. We were there and back in a few hours.

At Cassie's request, Janet's ashes were scattered through the vortex behind us.

Doc Fraiser got her wish.

She will be with us on every adventure ahead and beyond.

The wind will carry her soul through countless gates; her spirit will be free to roam the infinite universe …

Doctor Janet Fraiser will always have our sixes.

Who knows, maybe in 10 years time, Doctor Cassandra Fraiser might follow in her footsteps. I can't think of anyone more qualified and worthy to step into those shoes.

Until then:

God bless my friend and goodbye.


End file.
